Pusher

twenty-four.

As much as I insisted that I could drive myself to the party, Maverick refused to give me the address. So here I was, peeking through the blinds and waiting for that death machine he called a truck to pull into my driveway. On the bright side, if Maverick killed us both in some freak car accident, I wouldn't have to endure this night with him, Sticks, and Ducky hovering over me.

I had never been to a party in Bellville but I figured it had to be at least a little nicer than the ones in Dayton, so I donned a dress this time instead of jeans. I had wrestled my hair into loose curls (they were already falling out) and I spent more than five minutes putting on some makeup. And of course I triple checked that Ellie's pepper spray was safely tucked inside my purse.

Most of this preparation was out of nerves alone. I should have been spending my Saturday binge watching Netflix and studying, but here I was wringing my hands and obsessively checking my phone until Maverick pulled up to my house, his front tire rolling over the curb before he threw it into park.

Mom was out working the late shift at the dinner tonight so I locked the deadbolt on the way out and tried not to look too nervous as I walked up to Maverick's truck. He had the windows down, blasting yet another rock song I wasn't familiar with. I climbed in and nudged a fast food container to the side with the toe of my sneaker.

These Bellville kids might be rich enough to drown themselves in bathtubs of daddy's finest champagne, but that still wasn't incentive enough for me to wear heels.

When I glanced over at Maverick, he was wearing his typical combo of dark jeans and an old black band t-shirt. He certainly didn't feel the need to clean up at all. I guess there wasn't really any point in me spending so much time getting ready.

He cranked the truck into drive and shot down the road, going ten over while we passed through the side streets. Maybe he didn't drive recklessly to try to scare me. Maybe he just wanted to die a young and tragic death.

He glanced at me and adjusted the knob of the radio, lowering the volume just a touch. He still had to yell over the music.

"Did you dress like that for me or for those Bellville boys?" he asked, a teasing grin stretched across his face. I rolled my eyes and didn't bother answering. I started to regret the low cut of this dress.

Electric energy coursed through him as he laid his foot heavy on the accelerator and cranked the music back up. He belted out the lyrics, but I couldn't hear him, only see the way his lips curved around each syllable. I'd never seen him this geared up before, except for maybe when he was on stage last night. Of course, I had rarely seen him outside of our Current Events and that class was hardly worth celebrating.

When I felt his gaze on me, I reached across and turned down the music. "Would you mind keeping your eyes on the road?"

"How am I supposed to with you looking like that?"

"Seriously, Maverick, pay attention," I insisted. "I'm trying really hard to make it to my next birthday and you won't be helping by getting us into a car crash."

"Relax," he laughed. "The world isn't going to combust into a giant ball of flames if you let loose for just one night. I promise."

There he went again with that easy going tone. The friendliness of it set me on edge. I was almost starting to miss his constant threats. At least those made sense.

Despite Maverick's extremely reassuring promise, I couldn't relax the whole way there. This was my first time dealing as part of Maverick's — what even were we, a gang? — group, and I was sure he wouldn't handle disappointment well. I survived alright at the last party I went to, up until Maverick handcuffed me to a stair rail, but I credited that mainly to Ellie. This time I didn't have her by my side to pull my weight.